


Burn

by masterofstars



Series: Recall [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Body Horror, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, No Smut, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 09:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofstars/pseuds/masterofstars
Summary: Genji has had his sights set on one thing, and one thing only. It courses through his veins as visceral as the new chemicals that balance his body out. Blood and machine, working together with rage bristling just under the surface. Some nights, the spite isn’t enough. Losing the control on the anger that burned through him, the flames would swallow him up and consume him.A sort of prequel to my fic,Recall.However, it can be read on it's own!





	Burn

The base is unnaturally silent at night. Without the continuous stream of people walking in it’s halls, it feels hollow. Freakishly so. There is of course always a few stragglers that worked graveyard shifts but it is never enough to fill the building the way it is in the daylight hours. It is more of an annoyance than anything, actually. Having randoms walking around with their footsteps echoing in the halls and opening doors too suddenly. In the day those noises are commonplace and didn’t shake through bones as if one wrong move would end with death. During the day, it’s never as bad. 

During the day Genji Shimada is simply an asset. He does as told, trains in his free time, follows the rules - the ones that he actually cares about. Most are inconsequential and so he doesn’t make it much of a priority to stick to them. It has earned him more than a few trips to the Strike Commander’s office over the four months he’s been there (and actually conscious). It has also saved his ass more than a few times out on the field. That matters more than the trouble it caused. Dying on a trivial mission that he was forced into isn’t in the plans. He had been promised - if he agreed to be a secret weapon for Overwatch, he would be given the chance to get the revenge he so desperately needed. It had been made abundantly clear right off the bat that this wasn’t voluntary. Either he agreed, or he died. The only thing that had been keeping alive was the machines doing the job of his missing organs for him while the two commanders had stood at the end of the hospital bed. If he said no, the plug would be pulled. So he had agreed. 

Since then Genji has had his sights set on one thing, and one thing only. It courses through his veins as visceral as the new chemicals that balance his body out. Blood and machine, working together with rage bristling just under the surface. The longer he’s put through meaningless training and missions, the worse the smolder of fury inside of him becomes. He will play their games. He will go along with how they hung his life on the line in front of him. None of it will matter after he gets what he wants. It will all end after he gets to see the pain seared across the face of the only person who matters to him anymore. Genji can deal with it all, if only to be able to see the life drain from his brother right before his eyes. 

That’s what he tells himself, at least. It works usually. The spite had pushed him through his recovery and everything that came after. To everyone else on Blackwatch, Genji Shimada is a ruthless, unfeeling killing machine designed to strike down the organization’s enemies. He is their assassin. He was made with one purpose, and he never strays from it. After the first month most everyone had stopped even trying to get anything from him. The isolation he made for himself is something that he tells himself he needs. Shutting the world away and protecting himself from it all is the only way he is going to be able to get through this. His commander, Reyes, had figured it out quicker than the rest. Genji has seen it in his eyes the few, brief times they have actually looked at each other. No one tended to since the glowing red matches the hatred inside him a little too well for most people to handle. Reyes knows. 

It was either cosmic irony or cruel punishment that Reyes is the one to find him. Some nights, the spite isn’t enough. Losing the control on the anger that burned through him, the flames would swallow him up and consume him. It was sudden and vicious when it ripped through him. It had landed one of his fellows recruits in intensive care when the man’s words had been just a bit too free in how they spoke of him. Even from across the room, Genji had locked eyes with him and it had been downhill from there. Genji Shimada is a flight risk. Commander Morrison hasn’t been discreet about his displeasure and unease about their recently procured weapon. Therapy sessions have been made mandatory, but that doesn’t mean that he always attends them. Even when he does, it is more like a staring contest between him and Overwatch’s angelic miracle worker. Some miracle worker… She’s the reason he’s like this. It was her hands who had taken what was left and made it work again, to his utter despair. There was no point in keeping him alive, still isn’t. He had everything taken from him; his home, his family, the only person who had ever been important enough to keep close. It doesn’t matter. None of it does, in the long run. 

So, stealing from his teammates secret stash of alcohol on the roof doesn’t matter. He had been shown it in one of McCree’s attempts to get him ‘out of his shell’. Needless to say, it hadn’t worked. Genji is grateful for it now though. It means he can go back to what he knows best. Drowning himself in alcohol and drugs is what he does best. Maybe that was why his brother had done it. Tired of seeing his little brother wasting anyway to nothing, unable to cope after the loss of their father. 

It’s stupid to try and figure it out. The warm, harsh whiskey manages to wash the thoughts away for a while. An hour, or so. The alcohol set in quicker than it ever had when he used to get hammered in the bars and clubs of Hanamura. It runs through his system like liquid fire and soothes the sharp ache that never leaves his chest. It’s nice… for a small, heavenly moment in time. 

That was before. The bottle had been emptied quicker than Genji could remember and he can’t remember when exactly the world had started to spin and crash around him. All he knows is that it isn’t working anymore. The peaceful lull of his intoxication had passed and was replaced with something he can’t begin to describe. The floor doesn’t feel like it’s underneath his feet anymore as he walks. He can feel the glass bottle in his hand - the flesh one - but can’t make his fingers grasp it tighter when he tries. He falls into the hard metal wall on the way back to his room and it feels like his head has been hitten in the back by a baseball bat. Everything spins as he slides to the floor in a crumpled mess. Just barely coherent, he can feel the sweat starting to build on his forehead and face. Scrambling fingers claw the metal and fabric that covers his mouth so he can take real breaths. 

It isn’t working anymore. It isn’t working anymore. His brain feds him the fact over and over again in an attempt to keep out any other thoughts that would ruin him if they came back now. Obviously, he has to fix this. It is something wrong with all the crap hooked up to him, it has to be. It had been so  _ nice. _ Getting rid of all the rage, and betrayal, it had made him feel like himself again for that agonizingly short twenty or so minutes. It feels like it was hours ago, another lifetime maybe. Genji needs it back, and without even thinking about it his flesh hand starts to dig into the wiring of his other arm. It hurts like hell to have the thick cords sparking and fraying under his hand but it’s worth it. He tells himself it is worth it as pained tears fill his eyes. Before long the metal arm falls to his side uselessly, but… it still isn’t working. The insistent dizziness is there, blurring and blacking out the edges of his vision, but the float-y, tranquil feelings don’t come back. Panic sets in instead. 

Swallowing hard, he brings shaking fingers up to the disc on the side of his chest. Glowing soft red and lightly pulsing with his malfunctions and system failures, the circle of light lights up his hand as he tries to dig his fingernails into the edge of the metal. If he can get it off, just pull it out. He knows it would make it all stop. He knows what is held beneath it. The centre of everything. It is what’s sending all the blood through his body, and the coolant, the oil, the… Everything. If he can just get it out, it would all stop and he would be able to finally get away from it all, permanently. The longer he stays sitting in the empty hall the more desperate he gets for it. It doesn’t matter, after all. The only person who had ever matter didn’t want him. Wanted him  _ gone.  _ Had taken the sword  _ in his own hand  _ and made sure he would never be able to see him again. Why did Hanzo hate him that much? What had he done wrong? Didn’t he love the man enough, didn’t Hanzo  _ know _ ??? 

The sob that shakes through his body is traitorous. Genji does not miss him. He can’t. He would rather die than let himself fall back into that heartbreak. The breaking of the bottle that had been forgotten next to him until now is too loud. It makes him wince as the sound bounces off the metal walls. Too quiet. The neck of the bottle fits his hand perfectly as the jagged edge glimmers red from the lights on his body. It feels strange and dulled at the front of his throat when he tries the first time. The carbon black synthetic at the front of his neck is too strong for the weak attempt. Another choked sob leaves through his stupid throat and he pushes harder with brutal force. The sharp points of the broken glass get through and liquid warmth immediately starts to fall down his chest. Just a little more. 

Genji has no idea when he had tipped his head back or closed his eyes, but it feels okay. It feels alright. The pain in his neck is excruciating as he digs the tinted glass in further, but it’s cathartic. This is what was supposed to happen. This is what Hanzo had wanted to happen. It should have happened all those months ago. A wet, broken sigh starts to pass through his lips along with the blood filling up his throat. Cotton clouds his thoughts, and… it’s okay. He can die like this, he thinks to himself, resigned and at peace with the world that is just starting to fade in and out around him. He can finally put the heartache to rest. 

 

Vaguely, a tightness on his wrist registers. It’s okay though, nothing feels very real anymore. It flutters in and out, as does the muted snapping sound that comes once, twice, three times before it stops. The remaining sting of the glass at his neck eases away and Genji silently prays for it to be over. He can drift off like this. At ease with himself and the fate his family, his brother had wanted for him. No more wondering, just acceptance. 

Instead of the nothingness that Genji longs for, a sudden lack of oxygen replaces the feeling of the glass. Pain shoots through him as he gasps, or tries to. He chokes further on the warmth in his mouth, flying forward from the wall and gagging on the thick, bitter taste of his own blood. 

“There you go. C’mon, kid.” A deep, quietly rough voice makes its way through the haze. Somewhere in his brain he knows who it is but it’s just out of reach. On the tip of his tongue. He must try  to say something because next thing he knows there’s more blood bubbling up and spilling from his mouth violently. Pain sears into his neck with each breath that he can barely get through. 

The hold on his wrist is taken away and instead pressure becomes constant at his neck. No matter how hard he tries Genji can’t open his eyes to see what’s causing it. The world ceases to exist as the ground seemingly falls away from him. A quick rhythmic thud comes to his ears and it almost starts to feel okay again. Something is warm around him and holding him, and he’s drifting again so nicely. Blood pools in his mouth, but that doesn’t seem like too big of an issue anymore. Everything blacks in and out as his consciousness starts to leave him.

 

It could have been minutes or hours before another forceful gag pulls Genji from the sweet nothingness that came with unconsciousness.  He isn’t afforded the kindness of quiet this time, either. Loud, irritating beeps come every other second. One higher pitched than the other. Too many voices are coming from somewhere above him. It’s hellish, and the bright light that assaults his eyes even as they are closed is too much. 

He can feel the weak complain gurgle from him in a way that even disgusts himself. 

“Hold him f…” One of the voices starts to make a little more sense the longer he listens but it fades. 

A pressure on his chest makes Genji aware that it shouldn’t be happening. Hadn’t he been gone? He’d absolutely been gone, and now sensation is coming back anyways. A slow, deadly panic creeps up on him. I doesn’t matter how much it hurts as he tries to scream. 

“STOP!” STOP,” Genji barely gets through the two words before they are cut off by a new flood of warmth into his mouth. 

The pressure on his chest increases. They aren’t listening. It is going to be just like last time. He’d wake up and still be there. He’d have to face the reality of it again. The mere thought has him breaking out into sobs. “STOP! Don’t save me!” He screams over the roaring in his ears. “I CAN’T- I-”

His airway closes around the words and new panic is struck through him. His eyes fly open to be blinded by white blurred through his eyes full of tears. The world barely focuses enough for him recognize the shape of someone leaning right over him, arms extended. Everything feels like lead, like none of his body belongs to him, but he needs to do something. Genji can’t let this be a failed attempt. His still human - still alive - arm shoots out to grab at one of the arms. Once he grabs it he realized exactly where the arms are as pain soars through his neck again. 

“Gabriel!” A voice yells through the fuzz and then his grip is lost. 

Someone much, much stronger than him takes hold of his wrist and it’s pulled over his head. His commander. Another groan fills the air as the pain of the hold registers. His eyes flutter closed again and incoherent mumbles fall from his sticky lips. Begging. Pathetic, useless begging as he is once again brought back from the brink of death. New tears flood and fall down his cheeks.    
  
“Shimada you fucking listen here and listen good,” Reyes speaks too close to his ear. It’s close enough to break through the cotton and it makes Genji want to claw at his own brain. “You are  **not** dying on me.”

Genji’s whole body shudders and he just barely manages to shake his head before it brings new, unimaginable pain to him. Blood is still spilling from his mouth in sticky, unmanageable quantities, but he ignores it. 

“ Please…  _ w.... watashi wo koroshite KUDASAI!” _ Genji goes from a whisper to screaming again. His voice is going hoarse but he doesn’t care to notice as he writhes the best he can. His lower half is remarkably harder to control than it had been before. Nearly impossible to do more than struggle when he tries to kick out at anything close enough. “PLEA SE!  _ ONEGAI DAKARA!  _ HE- He doesn’t WANT ME!” 

Nothing is getting through to them and the fight is getting tiring and frustrating, and his desperation only gets worse. The dreamy haze is entirely gone and the nightmare before him makes him want to be gone so much more. Genji doesn’t need Angela’s and Reyes’ voices mixed overhead. He doesn’t want the straps that somehow make it around his ankles. His arm stays in the tight hold above him, and he loathes the hand that makes its way into his hair. He wants Hanzo. 

The thought rushes through him and wrecks him, sobbing in anguish. The pressure on his neck goes away but his throat feel tight and choking still as his chest shakes. They are still trying to talk to him, and not a single word of it gets through. His heart aches unbearably with each new sob that storms through his body. Before he knows it he’s begging again. 

“Hanzo! I want  _ Hanzo! Anija,  _ pl-please!” The need courses as he arches his back in his best attempt to get away from the hands on him. It isn’t Hanzo touching his hair, it isn’t his brother trying to talk him down, so why should he care?   
  
His begging continues until a sharp sting fills his arm and within seconds the world slips away around him again. The aches and pains lift up and leave him dizzy until he passes out properly.   
  
  


When Genji opens his eyes next it is light. Not blinding this time, but a soft glow of sun that comes through the thin cloth dividers in the infirmary. It isn’t the first time he’s been woken up in one of the beds, and realizing that it won’t be the last makes his heart drop in his chest. It didn’t work. Of course they would never let him go, not when he’s worth millions in advanced technology, not to mention time and effort. Yet, the despair that coils ruthlessly under his skin is dulled. It’s almost numb, if not for the little bit of warmth offered by the spirit that makes itself home within him. Genji sighs. Angela probably gave him something. Some antidepressant or anti-anxiety medication. Something to ‘help him relax’ as she always puts it. 

A dull, constant hum comes from behind him. The straps are still at the bottom of the bed but are no longer kept tightly around his ankles, so rolling over onto his side poses little to no challenge. He can feel the bandaging around his neck and he doesn’t have to look to know his left arm is mostly missing. It’s probably somewhere getting repairs for the utmost time. When would they realize they are wasting their time? 

Genji doesn’t count the minutes as they pass. It seems like a long time before the light curtain is gently pulled with a metallic sound as it moves. Pretending to be asleep seems like a good option in the face of having to confront the repercussions of what he had done. It’s probably already too late to start pretending now, though. 

A sigh runs through his lungs and rattles roughly up his throat. It hurts way more than he ever thought it would and a groan follows shortly after. 

“Good morning, darling.” Dr. Ziegler says sweetly from where she is reading vitals from a machine at the head of the bed that looks terrifying still, but he knows it had a good purpose. Reaching his arm back, he feels over the connection of wires at the back of his neck, just under the nape of his neck. Another, quieter sigh comes in lieu of any reply.

When Genji looks at Angela he can see the light shadows under her eyes. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, some strands left out of the hairtie and falling down her back to make the look even less neat. Her white coat covers up a casual sweater and jeans. Not scrubs, like she should have on. She wasn’t supposed to work today. 

Yet as she records the readings on the screen she hums as if this was what she would want to be doing. As if she didn’t mind that he forced her to have to work because of his complete loss of the will to live. The thought depresses him further and he presses his cheek into the pillow. From his peripheral vision he can see how Angela sits down on a stool and sets her clipboard on her crossed legs. Then her soft eyes are on him.

Genji frowns. “What?”

“You know we have talk about what happened last night.” She speaks carefully, but not clinically. Still warm as she always is with him for some reason. “The alcohol is long out of your system. I should have told you that your body can not handle anything of that sort, but I never thought it would come up since alcohol is prohibited on the base.”

The accusation isn’t abundantly clear in the statement, and Genji can tell the amount that is there is teasing. He would usually appreciate the try at humor but he isn’t in the mood… for anything, actually. 

“Can I go back to sleep?” He asks in a small voice. He doesn’t look over to her at all. 

“Genji,” She softens her tone to something that’s too close to pity. It makes him sick. “I can only be so lenient. You do not talk in therapy, and then this… I can’t overlook it this time,  _ liebling _ .”

The doctor had become fond of using the endearment on him not too long ago. It’s got a nice softness to it like the rest of her does, but it offers little comfort in the situation. Genji knows that she breaks a lot of rules for him. If he were anyone else, he would have been court martialed and kicked out a long time ago for insubordination. Not that he would be opposed to that, but with him, they would never. It isn’t even that wants to disobey. It’s their fault for ordering the therapy on him. Of all the orders he is willing to obey to get what he wants, this isn’t one of them.

He can’t talk about it. Even if he wanted to, Genji can’t ever bring himself to actually say the words aloud and tell someone a secret he’s kept for so long. Most of his teenage years and into adulthood, actually. No one else knows, and no one else ever should. It’s always been their secret, only his and Hanzo’s. All of the soft brushes of skin and hands held under tables, gentle kisses stolen when no one else was in the room. Every time one of them couldn’t stop themselves from sneaking across the hall into the other’s room. Each time their fingers had touched over skin and kisses as if they were both starving for it. Even the enraged, protective look that would gloss over Hanzo’s eyes whenever Genji would come home a high, drunken mess, shaking behind Hanzo as his older brother protected him from the wrath of the elders… after their father… Every memory, every part of it’s only for Hanzo and him. It’s the only thing that connects them anymore. You can’t get rid of memories like that, no matter if Hanzo is trying to even as they speak. 

Lost in thought and feeling his throat start to tighten painfully, Genji startles when Angela speaks again. “Do you remember what happened last night, Genji?”

The question is simple enough, but it sounds loaded. The exact details of what happened are incredibly fuzzy when he tries to think back to them. The feelings are there - the peaceful buzz, the desperation, the pain - but anything distinct is lost on him. “No. Not after I was found.”

“You said something when you were here. Well… screamed it, but it caught my attention.” The woman before him tiptoes as if Genji is made of glass in front of her instead of alloy and metal. It’s agitating but how can he blame her? Easily, if he looks past everything, but that’s hard to do when it’s throbbing in aching pain under bandages. 

“What did I say?” He asks short and curt. Indulging this any longer than he has is a stupid idea.

Angela moves a hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous fretting that Genji hones in on. Whatever she’s about to say, she’s worried about it. Her eyes don’t waver from how they stay on him, but he can see the caution in them. “You were panicked and fighting against the help, I am not unused to the kinds of thing one will shout in such a state. At one point, however, you said something specific. You said you wanted Hanzo.”

The name on the doctor’s lips is wrong. Whether his expression remains impassive or not, he doesn’t care. What right does she think she has to try and pry anything about it out of him? What would make her think that he would ever even dream of telling her  _ anything _ about Hanzo? She doesn’t have the right to shape his name on her mouth and the anger that flares through him is too dulled for how all consuming he wants, needs it to be. Without any care for the equipment he’s attached to, Genji sits up too quickly and feels the sting where the cords connect. His neck protests any movement at all, and the doctor has already thought this through. Her stool isn’t anywhere close enough for him to reach her, even as he tests the limits of the connection on his neck and feels the electricity bolt through his spine. There’s nothing close enough to grab and use as a weapon, and without his left arm there are no blades to dispense into his hands. His jaw clenches as anguish settles over him.

“You will make yourself bleed again if you are not careful.” The doctor points out from where she watches him with a look that is half clinical and half pity. Too much pity for his liking. 

“Shut up!” He barks through the thickness clinging to his voice. “I am  _ so sorry _ that I would even think of bleeding when you assholes spend so much money on it! Is that what you want to hear?”

“No,” Angela’s expression and voice become firm in the face of his verbal assault. “I want to hear why you asked for your brother.”

Genji’s blood pounds in his ears as her answer only fans the flames. Doesn’t she know he could tear the damn cords right out of his neck and kill them both? “You have no RIGHT to talk about him!” He snarls.

“He is obviously important to you, even with what he has done.” She hardly gets through the arrogant comment before Genji is reaching back and grabbing the thick plastic covered wires. To their side he hears the sound of boots on the tile before seeing the two men shove the curtain aside and aim their guns for him. His bloodlust filled eyes glance over, but Angela’s hand raises to halt them. “Genji, he killed you. Why would you ask for him when the only other option you were considering was death? He wouldn’t save y-”

“STOP!” Genji cries out, the corded muscle in his arm tensing and bulging where it grips the only thing keeping him alive for certain. “SHUT  _ UP! _ He would! He has, he would, he wouldn’t let me die! He l- he loves me. He loves me, he has to love me still! I didn’t  _ do _ anything! Why would he-” Tears and blood make him choke and he doesn’t have the fight left in him to react when Angela raises from her chair.

Distantly he recognizes that the two sent in for security are warning the doctor, getting only a response that Genji can’t hear but knows is bullshit. He flinches in recoil with her hand takes his wrist and moves it from where it had been trembling violently on his lifesource. As if by practice, the gentle pads of her fingers run over the scars that mare his skin. She knows them by memory. Suddenly she’s far too close, and his breath won’t move properly through what’s left of his lungs anymore. 

“‘Why would he’...?” Angela says to him, encouraging softly as she gracefully squats down to be eye level with him. When her eyes meet his there’s no glancing away. There’s no look of uncertainty, of fear. She doesn’t dismiss it like his commander, ignore it as if the threatening glow isn’t there. Her hand remains on his as it shakes and she looks at the eyes she made herself, and for a moment Genji gets it. This isn’t what she wants, either.

The dragon’s exhale can hardly be called such as it rattles through him and he breaks himself down. “Why doesn’t he love me anymore?” He pleads. The question feels like he’s stripping himself raw after the months of pushing it back. All of the isolation and forcing himself into ignorance makes it ten times worse as his vision swims with the heavy tears that freely fall. His head hangs between himself and Angela, and her hand that isn’t on his wrist comes to brush back the unruly black hair that still has the hints of green at the end to remind him of who, and what he used to be. It should be comforting and he knows it’s meant to be, but it wracks more sobs through him. 

  
Soft hushes come after the few minutes Angela gives him to fall apart. It feels impossible to fix the way his breathing has become ragged and close to hyperventilating, and his head feels thick and filled with every single distraught, hopeless question about  _ why _ flooded through him. The betrayal still stings just as sharply as it had the first time he had woken up to the sterile, bright infirmary. There’s no answers anyone can give him, and he knows it deep down. There’s no amount of revenge that could satisfy the deep, dark pit left in his stomach by the question.  _ Why. _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!
> 
> translations:  
> watashi wo koroshite kudasai: kill me, please  
> onegai dakara: for my sake, please  
> Anija: older brother, big brother  
> liebling: darling
> 
> if any of these are wrong, feel free to let me know!! im not very fluent in japanese and hardly know any german


End file.
